he
rail. Oh, the villain!" It was a cry of shrill rage. "_He's sawing on
the bit!_ And the chestnut has his ears back. I can see the glint of his
eyes. As if he wants to run simply because he is being held. But there--
there--there! He's got the bit in his teeth. His head goes out. Mr.
Corson, is it too late for Alcatraz to win the race?"

She dropped the glasses. There was no need of them now. Rounding into
the long home stretch Cordova made a last frightened effort to regain
control and then gave up, his eyes rolling with fear; Alcatraz had got
his head.

He ran his own race from that point. He leaped away from the cowponies
in the first three strides and set sail for the leaders. Because of his
ragged appearance his name had been picked up by the crowd and sent
drifting about the field; now they called on him loudly. For every
rancher and every ranch-hand in Glosterville was summoning Alcatraz to
vindicate the range-stock against the long-legged mares which had been
imported from the East for the sole purpose of shaming the native
products. The cry shook in a wailing chorus across the field:
"Alcatraz!" and again: "Alcatraz!" With tingling cowboy yells in
between. And mightily the chestnut answered those calls, bolting down
the stretch.

The riders of the mares had sensed danger in the shouting of the crowd,
and though their lead seemed safe they took no chances but sat down and
began to ride out their mounts. Still Alcatraz gained. From the
stretching head, across the withers, the straight-driving croup, the
tail whipped out behind, was one even line. His ears were not flagging
back like the ears of a horse merely giving his utmost of speed; they
were dressed flat by a consuming fury, and the same uncanny rage gleamed
in his eyes and trembled in his expanding nostrils. It was like a human
effort and for that reason terrible in a brute beast. Marianne saw
Colonel Dickinson with the fingers of one hand buried in his plump
breast; the other had reared his hat aloft, frozen in place in the midst
of the last flourish; and never in her life had she seen such mingled
incredulity and terror.

She looked back again. There were three sections to the race now. The
range ponies were hopelessly out of it. The Coles horses ran well in the
lead. Between, coming with tremendous bounds, was Alcatraz. He got no
help from his rider. The light jockey on Lady Mary was aiding his mount
by throwing his weight with the swing of her ga